I love that I wouldn't have spent today any other way. Not for anything in the world.

How did I spend it? With Popops and cousin Sean in Connecticut. 

And yes maybe we went to Constantine's. Which maybe my family begrudges me for liking because it means they all have to go when they're in town. And maybe if they complain they hear, "but Meghan likes it." And yes, maybe my full name is Meghan. And maybe I had the burger. Because let's be honest, I'm maybe always gonna be that girl that's gonna have the burger and get tipsy off of one glass of wine. And maybe Pops got some ice cream on the sleeve of his sweater. And maybe as he tried to eat (yes, eat) it off, it then fell on the front leaving another chocolate stain. And maybe this led to a Wal-Mart trip to get Spray and Wash. And then maybe we got home to find he already had some.

And maybe, just maybe, today was perfect.

Maybe the reason I'll always love Valentine's Day...

...is because growing up there was no better reason to celebrate our immediate family unit.

We had red and pink themed dinners where everyone was in charge of a course. 

Sesame shrimp. Red bell peppers filled with assorted somethings (I remember looking at it in disgust (I was seven, maybe?) and being introduced to the term antioxidants). Apples. Pink frosted cookies. 

And we always got a Valentine's gift. Nothing fancy. Nothing flashy. 

But perfection indeed. 

So when mine came in the mail today. I pulled out each piece and set them on my dresser. Though, I did peek in the red box. And as I suspected...cookies. Now, let me level with you. My mom makes the best sugar cookies. I've heard others make this proclamation and perhaps they're good, but my mother's frosting puts her over the edge. The best frosting. Best. I scoff at store bought frosting--yes, occasionally it hits the spot, but then you taste my mother's and you start to mourn for those who have only ever known the kind that comes in a can. 

So I had one cookie. 

Mmmmm.

And then put the others in the freezer for safe storage.

I feel so loved.

Why I love my family: Reason number 3,342.

At one point, when we were all together this past January, we had a ten-minute discussion as to whether we prefer to fold or crumple our toilet paper before using it.

Think about it.

I myself prefer the folding method. Funny, since I do almost nothing else the civilized way.

Another thing I love? Okay, here goes...

I read these words and thought, yes--that is what I want in my life more than anything else.

"Bashert is a Yiddish term that means finding one's preordined soul mate. Because it is a union created in heaven, even if all the forces of the world were to conspire against the meeting, it would still take place."

From Once Again to Zelda by Marlene Wagman-Geller. 

Putting Ned to bed. For good.

I was watching The Biggest Loser when it happened. 

Angela turned to me and asked, "What would Dr. Bob think about this show?".

"Well," I replied, "I don't think he would like it very much." And I started to think about just what Dr. Bob would say. He would say that anytime weight loss becomes the ultimate goal then you set yourself up for failure. He would say it has to be about the process. About changing your lifestyle. 

And it was then that it hit me. What he, what others have been saying all along. Essentially it boils down to this...

If you're not willing to do it everyday for the rest of your life then it just won't work. 

Do you know what that means? It means there is no such thing as a jump start--no cookie diet, or 1,000 calorie diet, or carb-free diet that will catapult me into a place where weight loss becomes a reality. 

And then if you think, okay--so everyday for the rest of my life--that kind of eliminates the idea of losing weight altogether and replaces it with one of your body figuring out where it likes to live--at what weight it feels the healthiest.

Does this make sense?

Everyday for the rest of your life. It sounds scary doesn't it? If it does then you're thinking with a diet mentality. Because in truth, I think it's actually quite freeing. I can't go without carbs everyday, which means I never again have to. Oh, feel that...I'm starting to breathe again.

The whole point is small changes over time. Dr. Bob had me set "going to the gym" as a priority for one week. And that one week blossomed into an almost everyday (but not obsessive) habit. This past week I was meant to up my fruit and veggie count. Thit endeavor has been slightly less successful. Not to worry, I'll try again.

Last year when things got really bad in October my mom flew to New York to stay with me for a week. As sad as I was, it was in many ways the best week of my life. I felt so enveloped in love. We ate lunch in the park everyday. And we saw the Grace Kelly exhibit at Sotheby's. We shopped and bought silly pictures off the men on the sidewalks. After the first day--I remember she made a really good chicken salad with almonds and grapes for lunch--she said, "See you got through one day. And tomorrow will be two days. And then three. And we'll just keep going from there."

I've begun the count again. After my biggest loser revelation it was as if I pulled the sword from the sorcerer's stone (remember that great Disney film? oh, it was so good). It was as though I now had the tool to slay my greatest nemesis. And with the weight of that sword in my hand I became afraid. They tell you to name your eating disorder so that you distinguish it from yourself. But in truth Ned is a product of some part of me. He is of me. And can I kill that part of myself? Well, you all (yes you blogdom lovies (as Micaela would say)), you all are right. I don't need Ned anymore. He is something I will carry with me as part of my past, but he sure as hell doesn't need to be my present or future any longer.

I've just finished day two. I haven't been perfect. Far from it. But I've got the rest of my life to figure out what perfect means to me. 

Day one down. Day two. Let's just keep going from here and see what happens.